>”Stay with me, Anon! Everything will be okay!”
"No, it's... it's okay, Twilight."
>You reach around blindly, unable to turn your head for some reason.
>"Just stay awake," she sobs, pressing her hooves into you. "Stay with me!"
>Trying to staunch the bleeding, probably.
"Did we..."
>It's hard to talk.
>Probably the rib that's piercing your left lung.
>"Don't say anything! Just stay still!"
>She looks around frantically, her head swivelling this way and that as she searches for something.
>"Fluttershy will be here soon, and she...she ..."
"That's not important."
>"There's nothing more important than you!" she cries, shutting her eyes. "Not to me!"
>She can't bear to see you like this.
>You almost feel guilty.
>You should have fought better.
"Did we... did we get them all?"
>You’re dying. All that is left is for you to do what you can with the time that remains.
>Slowly, she nods.
>Her lower lip is gripped between her teeth.
>She’s trying not to cry.
“The enemy are all…”
>You cough, speckling your princess’s face with your own blood.
>”Yes, Anon,” she mumbles, “they’re dead. They’re all dead and your fight is over. Just rest now. Fluttershy –“
“Twilight…”
>”Yes?”
>There.
>Your hand finds what it was hunting for.
>”Yes, Anon?”
“The fight… is never over.”
>Her eyes flare open, hunting for the threat.
>With effort almost beyond you, your fingers curl around the wooden handle.
>She gasps as you try to raise your arm.
>”No, don’t! You’re hurt.”
>You know this.
>”You aren’t in any condition to fight!”
“That’s why… why I have to…”
>”I’ll take care of it! Whatever it is, I’ll take care of it!”
>Her breathing is rapid and shallow – she’s on the verge of panic.
>Trying to stop your bleeding, trying to find the enemy – her fear for you, her fear for everything, it’s all too much for her.
>You struggle to stand, but your body refuses.
>It’s not a matter of being too weak; the necessary tendons and ligaments simply aren’t attached anymore.
>”Don’t move!” Twilight cries, pushing you back down. “You’re making the bleeding worse!”
“It’s okay, Twi…”
>You’re out of breath before you can say her full name.
>Huh.
>It’s a cute nickname – Twi – you wish you had thought of it before now.
>Before it was too late to matter anymore.
>Shame.
>Twi looks down at you with such compassion and tenderness, all other concerns forgotten.
>At this moment, you and your injuries are the sum of her world.
>You try to sit up, eliciting a fresh wave of crimson from your wounds and snapping Twilight out of her trance.
>”FLUTTERSHY!” she screams. “FLUTTERSHY, HURRY UP!”
>She’s given in to her panic.
>”HE’S BLEEDING! OH, SUN, HE’S BLEEDING OUT! FLUTTERSHY!”
“Twi…”
>Her head snaps back to face you.
“…it’s okay…”
>She’s crying.
>She’s crying for you.
>Why?
>”N-no, it’s – it’s not…”
“Yes, it is.”
>Somehow, you raise your hand to stroke her cheek, smearing the blood spattered across her purple coat.
>It almost looks like the blush of a lovestruck schoolfilly.
>”B-but –“
>Your grip on the handle is strong.
“Twi, it’s okay. There’s… there are only two left.”
>You run your fingers through the vibrant strands of her mane.
>”You’re bleeding.”
“I know.”
>You feel stronger now, strong enough to raise your other arm.
>The final burst of energy before life leaves you altogether.
>You’ve seen it many times, on many battlefields, in many warriors, from the wastes to the walls of Praag and Erengrad and beyond.
>And now… here. In you.
>How odd.
>You always thought you would live forever. You thought you were special.
>”You’re bleeding,” she repeats dully, too traumatized to find other words, other things to say.
“It’s okay.”
>Her eyelids flutter, trying to blink away the tears.
>”It’s not.”
“It’s okay.
>Twi closes her eyes, but the tears come anyway.
“It’s okay.”
>”S-stop saying that.”
“But it is.”
>”Why!?”
“Because Khorne cares not from whence the blood flows –“
>Twi gasps in pain as the fingers running through her mane become a fist, gripping her and holding her in place.
“-ONLY THAT IT FLOWS!”
>She screams as your axe cuts into her neck, for as long as she is able.
>It turns into a wet gurgle as she chokes on her own blood.
>The mare tries to rear back, tries to run, but your grip on her mane holds her in place with the insane strength of a dying man.
>In panic, in mortal terror, without even being aware of what she is doing, hooves hammer your chest, breaking bones and rupturing organs.
>It doesn’t matter.
>You’re dead anyway.
>It’s only a matter of how much blood you can spill before the last of yours is drained.
>You pull your axe free in a fountain of red.
>The look of betrayal and confusion that flashes across her face hurts.
>She should have known this would happen.
>You had told her.
>Chaos will have blood.
>Yours… or theirs.
>The axe smashes into her neck again, sanguine spatter turning the crystal floors red as her blood mingles with yours.
>Twilight’s eyes roll back in their sockets, bringing a hint of a smile to your face.
>So very like her, to roll her eyes at you even in her final moments.
>With a shudder, she falls, collapsing heavily on legs that cannot feel anything.
>She’s dead.
>Not dying.
>Dead.
>You didn’t want her to suffer.
>There is no glory in sadism, only in blood.
>Your death takes longer; you lay there, trapped under the body of your friend, your strength all but spent.
>Hoofsteps resound sharply, a quick four-beat cadence singing throughout the crystal castle.
>”Twilight!?”
>It’s Fluttershy.
>”Anon!?”
>The hoofsteps stop.
>You can’t turn your head to face her.
>”TWILIGHT!? OH MY GOSH, ARE YOU… Twilight, are you… oh, Celestia…”
>Hesitantly, the mare approaches, slowly coming into your field of view.
>You… you might have it in you for one more swing.
>”Anon… what…?”
>You will never reach her.
>That’s okay.
>Chaos will have blood.
>If not theirs…
>”Anon, why are you smiling!?”
>Slowly, too slowly, yet as quickly as you can, you raise your axe to your throat.
“Blood…”
>If not theirs…
“… for the Blood God.”
>… then yours.